


Hard Day's Night

by So_Yeah_Lolo



Category: yuri on ice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_Yeah_Lolo/pseuds/So_Yeah_Lolo
Summary: Nothing goes according to Plan.





	Hard Day's Night

**Author's Note:**

> Russian and Kazakh for Hey. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed my little fluff!

“Yuri Plisetsky if you’re not back on the ice in ten seconds- go home!”

How the fuck had it come to this? It was one salchow, Yuri told himself. One flimsy salchow that he was fucking proficient at already. This was stupid!

“Fuck off!”

“Yura get the hell out of here-!”

“Don’t bud in Vitya! I’ll mince you up and feet you to the damned Pig and your mutt!”

None of this was right. Otabek would be in Saint Petersburg soon, if not already. They were going to train together for the last portion of the day and then Otabek would go and DJ at a club. He would tell Yuri not to follow him, but Yuri would do so anyways, and Otabek always had a helmet for him. So why was this bullshit happening now? 

He stormed into the locker rooms, kicking Viktor’s own bag that sat on the fucking ground in his way. It was his own fault. This entire day had gone to shit because Yuri couldn’t make a basic jump. Like a loser. Fuck. 

Yuri fished his phone out after throwing his clothing off and changing into a tank and sweats. Anything loose after that tight spandex shit. Otabek had landed. Otabek was on his way. He wanted to text him, tell him not to bother. There was no point. Maybe if Otabek was willing to ditch a day of practice they could play his Switch or something. But that meant going home. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk running into the idiot couple when they leave. He hadn’t asked to live with Viktor, Yakov had fucking insisted. It was almost like he was trying to get rid of him. 

Was Yakov done with Yuri?

“Damn it all!”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuri waited patiently in his apartment, staring at the phone as if it would force Otabek to respond and update his location. Fat chance. Otabek was the least tech savvy person he knew. While it was definitely a grandpa feature it was also admirable that he had self control to refrain from social media. The Russian certainly didn’t think he could ever do it. Didn’t have to. He paid his own damned phone bill, it was his to use and no one could tell him to get off of it. Especially not Yakov with the bullshit he was pulling. 

Makkachin rested comfortably in Yuri’s lap, the Russian stroking curled fur softly. Why wasn’t Otabek there yet? It didn’t make sense, he had already acquired a bike before Yuri had been so gracefully kicked out of the damned rink.

“He’s such a damned asshole.” 

Muttered the blonde skater, glaring at the screen before him. Otabek probably didn’t want to deal with Yuri’s shit, that’s what everyone said after all. It wasn’t fair. This was all stupid. 

Maybe Yuri was the stupidest part of the issue though. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Привет.”

“Хей”

There was no club tonight, not anymore. Viktor and Yuuri had gone out on a proclaimed "date". Which really meant to get shit faced and grind on each other like the assholes they were. 

The two greeted each other as Yuri held the door open, Otabek staring calmly. As if he hadn’t put Yuri through hell with a simple wait. There would have been no issue if Yakov didn’t kick him out of the rink. Shitty Old Geezer. Wordlessly, Yuri made room for Otabek and the Kazakh entered, staring at the Labradoodle before him. Makkachin. Otabek seemed to enjoy the dog, but perhaps it was only him being kind. Or maybe a mutual understanding of one another. Potya seemed to simply know that Otabek was here, jumping from Yuri’s plush bed and padding out of his room to lavish in the attentions he demanded. Potya was a lot like Yuri, but then nothing like him at all. 

Curse these damn hormones. 

“-uri. Yuri.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not together today. Everything good?”

“Da. Fine. Stupid Yakov was a prick.”

“The Rink, right?”

“Da.”

Otabek was quiet and observant, even though Yuri could speculate that it was not as much an observation compared to the ridiculous amounts of complaints he had made via text about the situation. 

The blonde closed the door to the apartment, walking towards the living room and setting himself on the couch, his leopard printed throw blanket tossed to the side carelessly. Otabek had waited only a moment before Joining Yuri, which was normal. He didn’t normally like to get familiar in Viktor’s home, but after the numerous visits he’d somehow managed with his schedule Otabek was as close to home as he would allow himself. 

“Yura, what do you want to do?”

“You tell me Beka, I’m in such a shitty mood I have no answer.”

They didn’t use nicknames often, only in times of privacy. Yuri certainly didn’t need everyone in the damned world calling him such a feminine name and like hell would Yuri put up with anyone using Otabek’s nickname. That was Yuri’s privilege. 

Thin lips quirked as Otabek snorted, reaching for the remote and flipping on Netflix. 

“Crybaby.”

“Bite me.”

“Cannibalism.”

“Loser.”

“Kitten.”

“Teddy-Bear.”

Yuri couldn’t deny the smirk danced on his lip as they had bickered, throwing his blanket on his friend only to share. It was lame, all anime was lame because the Pig liked it by default. But this shit fest of a series had caught Otabek’s interest, and he was more than willing to watch it with him. 

“Go on- put on your devilman so you can see your crying murderers.”

Otabek had no retort, simply an elbow to Yuri’s arm. A silent nudge. The blonde would offer snacks but neither of their diets could support such a thing at this time. It was how it was. 

And that was fine. Otabek was here now.


End file.
